In the five days I had before the call with Nijiro and China, I decided not to waste a single moment and to push forward with my plans.
I knew moving to Japan wouldn't be easy, but I was determined to do everything I could to make it feel real.
First things first, I looked into the English language certification to cross it off my list.
To my relief, I found out I could take the test online. It was perfect—I could do it from the comfort of home, without having to go anywhere.
It wasn't luck that I was so good at English. It all started on August 12, 2022, when my grandfather gave me my first computer.
Instead of setting the language to Italian like anyone else would have, I chose English as the default.
It was a personal challenge, a way to force myself to learn and get better.
At first it was frustrating—I couldn't understand the harder words, so I was constantly opening Google Translate—but over time I got used to it.
On top of that, I was already in the habit of reading manga online in English because new chapters came out sooner than the Italian translations.
Waiting weeks for a translation felt like torture, every cliffhanger leaving you hanging.
The same went for YouTube and Twitch: I almost always watched American creators, and my absolute favorite was xQc.
I had been following him ever since I played Overwatch on the Nintendo Switch, back when he was a pro in the game.
Listening to xQc and tons of other streamers talking fast, each with their own slang and accent, had trained my ear in an incredible way.
Still, even though Nijiro had assured me I would reach C2 without any trouble, I wasn't completely convinced.
C2 was the highest level in the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages—it was basically native-speaker proficiency.
It didn't just mean understanding and speaking fluently; it meant handling nuances, idioms, and complex situations like a native.
I didn't think I was there yet. Sure, I could talk to strangers in English without any issues and type effortlessly in Twitch chats, but I was convinced I was still a long way from C2.
I felt more like an advanced B2, or at best a C1. That's why I decided to use those five days to practice hard.
The idea hit me like a lightning bolt: I would stream for those five days exclusively in English. No Italian at all—not even to greet chat.
I started that very afternoon. I fired up the stream on Twitch, set the title in English, and jumped in.
At first it felt strange. My Italian community, which made up most of my viewers, was completely thrown off.
Some chatted in Italian asking what was going on; others switched to English to roll with it.
Little by little, new viewers started showing up from all over the world—Americans, Brits, Spaniards, Australians.
In that short stretch I grew faster than usual. My community wasn't just Italian anymore; it was international.
I saw a big jump in followers: I went from 37,000 to 40,000—an impressive number.
"Should I just keep streaming only in English from now on?" I asked myself as I shut down the stream, exhausted.
I thought about the pros: a global audience, explosive growth, clips spreading everywhere, not just within my Italian viewers.
But then I thought hard about the cons.
My Italian community was the one that had supported me from the very beginning, when I was nobody with five viewers. They were the ones who made it feel like family.
Growing my numbers wasn't my main goal. I wanted to get better at games and compete in tournaments.
In those days, I was amazed at what I could pull off. I streamed every single day for over ten hours, pushing myself to the absolute limit.
On Fortnite, I was finally getting the hang of building, which let me chat way more with the audience than when I played Osu!—that game demanded total focus.
Talking nonstop for hours in a language that wasn't mine was brutal. My throat was on fire, but I handled it like a champ. I didn't slip up once, not even at the end of a stream when I was completely wiped.
At last, the day of the call with Nijiro and China arrived. The certification exam was scheduled for the next morning.
I had planned on keeping it short so I wouldn't be exhausted for the test.
I joined the call ten minutes before midnight—the time we had agreed on—so I was still alone.
Nijiro hopped on a minute later. "Hey Christian," he mumbled, sounding half-asleep.
"Hey, how's it going?" I asked.
"Good. While we wait for China, I'm gonna grab a coffee," he said, then set his headphones down.
We waited about twenty minutes, just shooting the breeze while he slowly came to life.
Finally China joined. "Hey guys, sorry I'm late—I went out for dinner and it took way longer than I thought."
"If you can figure out how to convince my parents, you're forgiven," I joked, laughing to keep things light.
China chuckled. "Actually, I did think of something. What if we pretended you were moving in with Nijiro? Even though it wouldn't be true."
The second he said it, I got excited inside. It sounded brilliant.
"But it won't work," he added immediately, killing the vibe.
"I think it's a solid idea," I pushed back, not ready to let it go.
"It won't fly," he said. "Your parents would never let you move to Japan to live with someone they don't know. Think about it—Nijiro's a total stranger to them. No way they'd trust that."
He had a point. I paused. "Yeah, but we could fix that. Maybe set up a video call so he can introduce himself to them."
"Still wouldn't work," China insisted, shaking his head. "Put yourself in their shoes. They meet some guy once over a call and they're supposed to be okay sending you halfway across the world? No chance. We need something more solid—someone they already know."
"There is one person," I said, digging through my memory. "I think it's my mom's uncle."
"I only met him a couple times at family dinners before he left, but I don't think he'd work—he comes back to Italy pretty often," I added, thinking it through.
"Yeah, probably not," China said, sounding thoughtful. "Your parents could just call him. Too big a risk they'd find out you're not actually staying there."
Nijiro had been quiet almost the whole time. All you could hear from his mic was background noise—the steady, precise click of mechanical keys as he typed.
He was probably jotting down ideas for a solution, or adding to the pros-and-cons list he had mentioned before.
We spent a while tossing around other options that clearly weren't going anywhere.
Then another memory hit me. "Guys, I just remembered someone else in Japan, but I doubt it'll help."
"Tell us anyway—we can rule it out if we have to," China said.
"He was a friend from elementary school—Alessandro. We kinda drifted apart in middle school," I said, piecing it together.
"From what I heard, he moved to Japan with his family a couple years ago. His dad landed a good job at a tech company in Tokyo, I think," I added, recalling the moment my mom had told me about it.
"Perfect," China said. From his tone, I could tell an idea had just clicked for him. "Now we just need a little luck."
"What do you mean?" I asked, curious.
"With the cousin's uncle, it wouldn't have worked—because, from what you said, he's someone your family stays in touch with pretty often," China started explaining.
"Alessandro, on the other hand, neither you nor your parents have heard from in years," he went on. "It's an old connection, forgotten, but still believable. We can build the plan around that."
"It could actually work…" Nijiro chimed in while he had been typing nonstop for over an hour now. He stopped suddenly, like he had just finished processing everything. "I've got an idea."
Then, with a determined voice, he said, "To convince your parents, we need a solid performance. So, do you happen to have any videos or audio files with their voices? I mean Alessandro's parents."
"Of course not—why would I have audio files of their voices?" I shot back, confused.
After a few seconds of silence—Nijiro wasn't answering—he said, "Christian, you need to sneak your parents' phones and check if there are any messages with them. Look for videos or voice notes, like old WhatsApp stuff."
China jumped in like they had planned it without me, finishing the thought. "Then I come in. I'll take the audio samples and run them through software that analyzes their voices and turns my words into theirs. That way we can fake a call where 'they' confirm you're welcome to stay."
"It's a good plan, but what about faces for a video call?" I asked.
"Who said anything about a video call?" China fired back.
"It'd be way too hard to make realistic CGI characters. They'd spot it immediately," he explained. "If they ask about it, just say the phone camera's broken and the mom's phone is in for repairs."
Finally he added, "Anyway, this plan's risky. Dig up every audio clip you can find—the more we have, the more realistic the voice will sound. You focus on your parents' phones; I'll search their socials and track down any videos with their voices."
"Now that we've sorted the parent issue, I need to talk to you about school," Nijiro said, switching gears.
"Did you manage to convince the principal?" I asked, curious and hoping for good news.
"Yeah, it was tough, but I got him to agree," he said. "He'll consider enrolling you, but there are conditions."
"What are they?" I pressed, anxious.
"The first is getting C2 certification in English," he explained. "The second is the J.TEST in mid-March, with the closing of the school year. You need to reach a score equivalent to the Japanese N2, which roughly corresponds to a B2."
"Wait, hold on!" I said, freaking out as panic hit me. "How am I supposed to reach B2 level in just eight months?! And why March and not September—you said end of the school year?"
"You'll have to handle the certification on your own," Nijiro answered. "If you want advice, download Anki to study Japanese."
"As for school," he continued, "it starts in April, not September. Plus, their grade levels are offset from yours: six years of elementary, three of middle school, three of high school."
"So if I go to Japan, I'll have to repeat freshman year?" I asked, trying to do the math.
"No," he said. "Since you were born after April first, you'll be placed in the next year group—the one for kids born between April 2, 2010, and April 1, 2011. So you'll be in eighth grade."
"What?!" I yelled, jumping out of my chair and almost waking the whole house. "I'm going back two years?!"
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you'll be in class with little kids—they'll be your age," Nijiro said, trying to calm me down.
Then he added, "You're actually lucky: the school you'd hypothetically go to—if we pull off getting you to Japan—has both middle and high school together. So you won't have to find another school or take an entrance exam for high school."
Now everything felt even harder.
Not only did I have to nail the C2 the next day, but I also had to learn a completely new language in just eight months to even stay there.
"I'll message you guys when I find something. I'm heading to bed now—got the language test tomorrow. Night," I said after another fifteen minutes of talking.
"Night," they both said at the same time, and we all left the call together.
After ending the call, I felt like a massive mountain loomed ahead of me, its first peak the exam waiting for the next day.
The following morning, as usual, I woke up earlier than I needed to—at 5:30.
The sun hadn't fully risen yet, and the room was wrapped in dim light.
The exam started at 8, so I had time to get my head in the right place.
I decided to train first, at 6. I had promised myself I wouldn't skip a single training day except the planned rest ones.
It wasn't just about the body—it was about discipline, about forging my mind.
Every session was personal growth training. Even on days when I felt zero motivation, I had to head to the park and push through until my muscles burned.
At exactly 8:00, I joined the Zoom call to take the exam.
I was nervous—sweaty hands, heart pounding a little harder, and one clear goal: nail the C2.
Since it was online, I had to be on a video call with an examiner who made me turn on my webcam to make sure I wasn't cheating.
"Good morning, Mr. Iori. Ready to get started?" the examiner asked—a guy in his forties.
I activated the camera, showing my face and the room around me, and we got going.
While I took the test, my computer was completely locked down: I couldn't leave the screen or open any other tabs. It was a tough anti-cheat setup.
I finished the exam in two and a half hours: listening sections with complex conversations, reading academic articles, writing an essay on a given topic, and recorded speaking.
I was wiped out by the end, but satisfied. Now I had to wait a week for the results, which would come by email.
While I waited, I needed to move forward with the plan: get hold of my parents' phones.
I couldn't just ask them outright—they would say no right away, or worse, get suspicious.
There was no point obsessing over the exam now—I had already turned it in, and dwelling on it wouldn't change a thing.
I had to focus on one thing only: figuring out how to grab my parents' phones without them noticing. That was my next mission.